The Taste of Your Kisses Under My Tongue
by ambiguously
Summary: Rey and Ben are on a mission to rendezvous with a contact on behalf of the Resistance, and mix business with pleasure along the way.


The gown itches, and her feet hurt. Rey remembers watching a holovid of a little girl playing with fancy dolls, once when someone with a holovid projector set up an entertainment for the outpost brats. The memory is hazy, and the only dolls she's ever played with were the ones she made out of scraps with her own hands, but she can still remember the fine skirt and the complex braids in the doll's fake hair. When she was ten, she considered this the height of luxury, to dress a doll in a pretty gown. Tonight, Rey is dressed more lavishly than she ever dreamed, her desert garb set aside for a dress the color of the sea and worth more than her entire lifetime of scavenging could afford.

But the fabric itches, and the matching shoes confine her feet in a way her boots never have. Luxury has more than one price.

Her escort for the evening's plan is dressed more plainly, the blue in his fine tunic matching hers but far more muted in style. He looks better in black, or red, or nothing, but those aren't options tonight. His eyes take her in, and inside his glance she reads a blend of criticism and desire.

"Hold still," he says, and the critical note in his voice is pure Kylo, but only Ben would know to run his hands under the low collar of her gown, sliding his palms over her shoulders to readjust the thin straps into position. She expects his touch against her breasts, and takes in his amused smile as he removes his hands without the grope.

Rey moves. The itch is gone. "Better. Can you do anything about the shoes?"

"No, and you can't wear boots instead."

"Fine." She takes the slim matching purse, made heavier by the weight of her lightsaber. She's scoured old images for ideas, settling on a design of her own inspired by models that separated into harmless-looking pieces. Anyone examining her bag tonight will only see items that could be a brush and makeup, and if they are lucky, that's all anyone will see.

The ground car is driven by a droid. They can't trust they're not being recorded regardless. They can't talk about the business they've come on, which means it's a perfect place to fall into each other's embrace, mouths hungry for each other. Rey's hand finds Ben's lap, and kneads with gentle pressure while his hand slides up under her skirt to stroke the skin of her thighs where her legs meet. One finger brushes the silky fabric covering her most sensitive skin and Rey gasps into his lips as the pressure thrills through her.

Their car slows, and they break apart slowly. Ben's face is flushed, and Rey's cheeks flame red. "Ready?" he asks.

"For you," she says solely to make the half-erection he has plump into fullness. He offers her a glare as his hands quickly readjust himself under his clothes.

She's out of her side of the car before he can walk around. Not the etiquette of the situation, but they're not expected to be knowledgeable about the ins and outs of high society. They're pretending to be New Money, a concept Ben has tried to explain to her several times on their journey to this planet. Old Money has sophistication and class, and may in reality be poor as womprats, while New Money is often far wealthier but considered not as fine. It's all Money to Rey, and she's never had enough credits in her own pocket to buy a rations bar, much less care if those credits were Old or New. General Organa's family is Old Money, despite having no money to speak of now that she's spent it all on the Resistance. Ben could swim in these waters, and instead will play that he is paddling.

"Come on," he says, taking her arm. His tunic hangs low enough to cover the bulge in his pants. They both know he's hard just as they both know Rey is nearly soaked through in the silk under her dress. Neither is part of the mission, but both are reasons they took this mission together. The others know they've become lovers. The Resistance is too small for privacy. A mission allows some.

They flash their forged invitations, and Rey's purse is inspected for contraband. Then they're allowed in, mingling with the various ages of Money as serving droids go by with drinks. Their contact hasn't arrived yet.

Rey holds a flute of nectar in her hand as a shield. Ben sips from his. A light touch against his mind assures her he's not tipsy. They can communicate this way at times. Rey likes the intimacy, and she's afraid. Ben's mind is not a nice place to be. She's not poking inside now.

"This way," he says, pulling her towards a knot of conversation, smiling and listening in like someone who knows what the center of attention, some Very Old Money in the shape of a Muun banker, is talking about. Rey smiles when he smiles, and she keeps watch for their contact. The sooner they can collect the intel and leave, the happier she will be.

They break from the tangle of guests and join another. Dinner is called. All the guests are ushered into a grand hall dotted with tables. Ben's hand at the small of her back guides Rey towards theirs. They're the first to take their seats around the table, which is set for six. Rey stares, worried. It's one thing to stand idly by as Ben pretends to know what's going on around them. It is another to make small talk with a small group.

He sees the same issue. Before they can be joined, he leans over to her and whispers in her ear, "You're not speaking tonight. Not a word. You have to trust me."

He pulls away to look at her. Rey presses her lips together, letting her eyes spark her irritation instead. At worst, she can reach out with her mind to his, but this is not the way she planned to spend her evening. But he's waiting, waiting for her to give her assent, waiting for the acknowledgement that she does trust him, will trust him, can ever trust him after everything.

Rey nods once.

Ben sits back, placing an awkward smile on his face as he turns to greet the other two couples joining them tonight. He stands and introduces himself with the borrowed name he's using. "My wife," Ben says, gesturing to Rey with the faintest catch in his voice. There's a flicker in his thoughts, one she can pick out even without trying, and now she knows he's pretended to himself before that they are married. Rey doesn't know what to make of that, and she turns the discomfort into a tight smile at the others. "She doesn't speak."

"An accident?" asks one of the guests, her thick porcine face drawn into concern.

"Religious vow," Ben replies smoothly. "Darli is an Outer Rim girl. It's a tradition on her planet to take a vow of silence for the first year of marriage."

"I ought to visit that planet sometime," says the other guest's mate, getting a death glare from his wife in the process.

The first course is set out efficiently, a delicate soup in tiny bowls. Rey breathes in the smell, and for a moment, she stops caring about the mission or about the cover story. She watches Ben for which spoon to take, and brings a bit to her mouth. It's cold, which surprises her, and blended with flavors she doesn't recognize. With a great reluctance, she leaves the last few sips in the bowl, seeing that Ben has done the same. It's wasteful, and her heart hammers as the droid server whisks it away from her before setting down another dish.

"You may not have seen this one before, dear," Ben says. "Your planet doesn't have these vegetables, and I doubt they can import them." He reaches for her plate and slices one into small pieces for her.

Rey resists rolling her eyes at him. He doesn't have to throw himself into the part this much.

His eyes glimmer back at her. He selects one small piece, dips an edge in the golden sauce drizzled at the side of the plate, and brings it to her lips. Rey opens her mouth, letting him slide the piece in, slipping the tip of his finger in with it. She nips him, eyes meeting his as he pulls his hand away. The vegetable crunches under her teeth, a quick crispness giving way, with the sweet sauce an interesting counterpoint to the savory flesh. Ben brings another piece to her mouth, feeding her bit by bit, chasing the third bit with a soft kiss.

Rey tilts her head towards the others at their table, but she sees only amused indulgence. She is playing Ben's pretty pet tonight. Never mind that she could wipe the floor with him in a fight. Never mind that when she has him in bed, her hands brace his down, trapping him under her as she rides him for her own needs. The onlookers see none of this. They only see Ben's long, clever fingers placing tasty morsels into her mouth, and think of their own days of young love.

"And what do you do for business?" asks one of the other guests as the vegetable plates are taken away.

"Sales and trading," Ben says. "Darli's mother is one of the biggest suppliers of korba roots in the sector. I arrange buyers."

They've gone over this. Ben's not pleased with the cover story, and that is entirely because his father used one just like it sneaking contraband around the galaxy. Anyone hearing him say it now will assume that's the same thing Ben and Rey are doing: wealthy smugglers, New Money, entirely forgettable.

Rey sees another set of late guests arrive. One of them is wearing the same pin as their contact. She notes the table, then rests her head against Ben's shoulder, eyes on their target. He follows her gaze as he wraps a fond arm around her.

A course of small seafoods comes next, an array of tiny creatures, pink and white and succulent with four sauces. Ben spears them one at a time on Rey's fork, selecting a sauce, and bringing it to her mouth like he's feeding a child. She very nearly pulls the fork from his hand, but he's well into the role, and in the role, his gaze is filled with giddy devotion. The man he's pretending to be tonight isn't patronizing her, he's serving her.

She takes the first bite. Salty and succulent, there's a full-bodied fish taste to this one, cut with sharp sour notes from the sauce. The next bite is pale and uncooked. She nearly recoils, but she's trusting him. It's not bad, not anything like the worm flavor she was half-expecting. The texture isn't much different from the bulbous meat she was forced to resort to at times back home, but the taste has a spicy undertone, as though it was marinated in something hot. The other bites are similar surprises, and she enjoys each one, and she sees Ben enjoy watching her. He has barely touched his own food.

Rey reaches for his plate, and she grabs a piece. She brings it to his mouth and feed it to him, sliding her finger deep inside as she does. The groan he lets out is just for her, and she knows he's hard as stone under his tunic, under the table, under their very noses.

Their contact is making light conversation across the room at another table.

Another course arrives, this one wild-caught game from Gwori, with a side of braised greens. Ben doesn't help her with this one, instead demonstrating the way to cut the meat for slivers of bites. Rey follows his movements. The meat is cool and pink inside, which makes the other diners happy. Rey would be happier if it had been cooked through. She tries a piece, chewing slowly to make it last. Smoke is seared through, her mouth full of it, but the meat itself is tender. The next piece has more pink, and less smoke, and she can taste the full flavor rich on her tongue.

Ben is watching her again. He's taken a few absent bites of his meal, but his attention is squarely on the joy in her face. The man he's pretending to be loves her. Rey is not sure he's pretending now.

There's another course. Ben stands as the droids bring it by, holding out his hand. Rey takes it, curious. "Excuse us," he says, drawing her away from the food. Rey hesitates, wanting to taste the next new thing, but they aren't here to eat. Ben leads her by the hand across the room, right past the table where their contact sits. Rey touches the table as they pass, tapping twice.

They make their way towards the refreshers, ducking into a dark alcove as soon as they can. The contact will wait ten minutes before joining them.

"Can I talk now?"

"If you want."

"What was that about?"

"I didn't want them asking you questions. I've lied about my identity before. You're too honest." He's not wrong. Lies fall out of his mouth better than they've ever settled in her own. She has other ideas about her mouth for the moment, reaching for a kiss. Ben settles into the kiss with a harsh sigh. Pressed against him this way, she can feel his need for her. She knows he's wanted her since the car ride over.

There's not much room. They don't need much. Rey's skirt rises enough for Ben to yank down her wet undergarment. He brings it to his face, and she watches him smell her desire before stuffing the fabric into a pocket. She grabs his arms, helping him lift her, and he presses her against the wall. Rey sinks down on him, feeling the good, thick stretch of her body around him, and feeling too the welcome mingling of his thoughts. They can always touch minds when they do this. Some day that will make a mission very awkward for everyone else in the room.

Ben thrusts hard into her, burying his face against her hair. Rey falls into her own pleasure, urging him to shift angles until every stroke hits her where it feels so good. They're both silent as she's been half the night, desperate to stay undiscovered, more desperate for each other. It's too awkward a position to kiss now, and instead she meets him mentally, and replays the last hour from his eyes, feeling his wonder and delight in watching her enjoy her meal. She can feel the emotion he's been playing at, and feel that overlaid with emotions he's not sure how to handle, and she can feel him, filling her, needing her, anchoring himself to her as his last hope. No one else trusts him. No one else can, not even himself. Rey is caught between trust and need, pinned between them as Ben pins her to the wall now, moving faster.

She doesn't remember a time she didn't want him. She remembers fearing him, remembers hating him, and neither emotion is entirely gone. Kylo Ren has done too much, has hurt her and her friends too many times, and part of him will always be that same terrible person, no matter how many missions he takes for the Resistance, no matter how many nights Ben spends in her arms. But she has wanted him from the first, for all that, and he has wanted her, too, wanted this, and how much that want factored into his choice to walk away from his bloody past, neither intends to speculate. If he stops wanting her, will he walk away again, and will she have to kill him if he does?

He stops, jerking into her suddenly, and she feels his peak move through him. She's not there yet, squeezing her thighs around him for more. He steps back, gently setting her down, and drops to his knees in front of her. Still sparking in his own pleasure, his mouth presses against her, and this is the taste she understands he's wanted for himself all night, drinking his own seed from her and licking her with a firm motion until Rey has to shove her arm into her mouth to block her cries.

Ben turns his face, resting against her leg. She can feel the pleased smile on his lips, and the wet on his mouth. The trembling in her legs ripples through him. It's never going to be the same with anyone else. It can't be.

After a moment, he stands slowly, straightening her skirt, and she reaches her hand to his face to wipe him clean. He grabs her wrist and kisses her hand, and she wants him again, wants him more, but they have business here. It takes only another minute for their contact to meet them in the alcove.

She greets them, then steps back, wrinkling her long nose into a coil. "You both reek of sex."

"It's a party," Ben says. "Half the people here tonight will reek of sex before tomorrow."

"If you say so." She digs into her own sumptuous dress and between two of her three sumptuous bosoms, and retrieves a tiny data stick. Her attitude is all Old Money. She caps the impression by saying, "Give Leia my best."

"We will," says Rey, taking the stick. "Thank you for this."

"You're welcome. Those bastards from the First Order raided my planet last year stealing children. If you manage to eradicate every last one of them over the age of ten, I'd consider it a personal favor."

Ben's face is still. He was working for them back then. It's unlikely he ordered the raid, or knew about it, or cared back then. It's still his crime and it sits at his feet with the rest.

"We will," he tells her.

They leave by another hallway, closer to the kitchens. Ben is silent. Rey is worried. They should get out unseen and get this back to the Resistance as soon as they can, and if this happens before the partygoers whose identies they forged find out they're here, so much the better.

"This way," she says, when she sees the distant look on his face.

He nods. Then he pulls her back as the droids roll out with the desserts. A devilish smirk crosses his face. The last droid rolls by. Ben reaches out with the Force and lifts two plates from the tray. The droid pauses, then keeps rolling. They wait until the servers are well out of sight. Ben scoots both desserts to one plate and uses the other as a cover.

"You stopped for a snack?"

Her body hasn't yet come down from her peak, and his mind is open to her still. She can read the heavy guilt crushing him. She can also read his desire to spend the twenty hours it will take them to rejoin the fleet with Rey spread out naked in front of him, feeding her sweet bites off her own belly. Sex isn't the best way to deal with his problems, and neither is basking in Rey's happiness, but he'd like to give both another try.

Her mouth dry, she says, "Let's go."


End file.
